Life Goes On
by swifters
Summary: Danny didn't make it. Steve's not sure if he can go on. DEATHFIC,


**Had a brain burp today for various reasons and out came an established McDanno deathfic of all things. I can only apologise and promise to resume production of normal stories with non-fatal outcomes forthwith.**

 **IC and ECT had the dubious honor of being online and available when I took the bizarre notion of actually considering posting this, which was not the initial intention. Thank you ladies for saying nice supportive things.**

 **Sorry again (Damn you world for making my mood so black today! *shakes fist over-dramatically at the sky*)**

 **Disclaimer: They are not mine (and if they were I wouldn't do this to them, that's for sure). Warnings: Deathfic, suicidal thoughts, facts about what undertakers do you may not want to know, set a few years in the future. Ugh.**

LIFE GOES ON

"You're an asshole, you know that Daniel?" Steve said, but there was no heat in his voice.

When no reply was forthcoming, Steve closed his eyes for a moment and sighed. "Make that a stubborn asshole."

Danny was always loud, always larger than life. Always filled the space around him with a presence a hundred times greater than his size. He was quiet now and Steve found himself rattling in the silence, his insides pouring out with the need to fill it.

He kept his eyes firmly on the trees a short distance to the south, refusing to give in and turn towards his partner yet. They were tall and leafy, green and full, some were in flower. The large white blooms glowed like stars in the night sky.

"Look, I'm sorry!" he barked, out of nowhere. "I feel terrible, okay? I couldn't feel any worse. I'm sorry. I know I've said it before, but I am so _fucking_ sorry."

And he _had_ said it before.

He'd said it to Grace and Charlie when Danny had still been missing after a week. He'd said it to the team when he'd led them into raid after fruitless raid, because he wasn't damn good enough. He was two steps behind the bastard who'd taken their friend from them, every single time.

He'd said it to Danny a lot. The first time was when they had finally found him, too late. When he'd breathed his last just as Steve had lifted him into his arms and told him he was safe. When those tired blue eyes saw him and then saw nothing at all.

Steve finally turned to face the headstone he had helped Grace choose. "I'm sorry!" His voice was cracking now and there was no hiding the blackness in his soul. He hefted the gun in his hand, felt its reassuring weight. "Danny… I'm sorry. I know you wouldn't want this… but I don't know what else to do! I don't know how to go on. How am I meant to go on?"

The writing blurred, the dates vanishing in a veil of angry tears. Suddenly he wanted to shout at Danny, to berate the man for putting him into this position to begin with, by just not being able to hang on that little bit longer. But he didn't. He couldn't do that. He knew what Danny had been through at the hands of the monster who would never see the light of day again. He knew his partner had lasted longer than he should have been able to, really. Stubborn bastard, fighting to the very end, determined to see his loved ones again no doubt.

He had mouthed Steve's name as he'd slipped away. Chin had said afterwards he thought that had been a good thing. Danny had died knowing it was over, and he was safe in the arms of his best friend, his lover, once more.

Tears burned hot tracks down Steve's face as the moment Danny left him replayed in his mind for the millionth time. What had followed- the desperate, futile attempts to bring him back, to save his life- had faded into a meaningless blur in his memory. Only snapshots in time remained.

Danny lying in a drawer in Max's office instead of in Steve's bed. Danny in the open coffin his parents had wanted for reasons that made no sense to Steve. He'd looked as though he were sleeping- so his Mom and Pop had said, gratitude shining through their tears. But not to Steve. He'd looked stiff and still in his smartest suit, the tie tied too tight. When he slept he was soft and mobile. Steve just saw his dead lover, undertaker's make-up covering the gray, bruised skin. Undertaker's stitches in Danny's gums holding that beloved mouth closed so the jaw didn't hang, lax and open.

Steve wished he didn't know so much sometimes.

He wished he could have seen the peaceful sight Danny's family had. He wished he didn't know Danny had suffered so badly. He wished he didn't miss him so much that it was eating him alive, dragging him down to the deepest darkest pits of hell.

He had lost the man he loved. He had no one to bicker with and laugh with and cry with. His bed was empty, there was no one to love, no one to kiss. No warm, beloved body to take apart one tiny piece at a time until a ragged voice begged for release, sobbing in ecstasy.

Steve had lost everything. He looked down into the barrel of his gun.

The sound of an engine made Steve turn. It was Lou's truck. He swore and hung his head, tucking his gun in his holster. He wanted to be left to sit here alone, sit in the soft grass beside Danny while he built up the courage to join him. He knew the team meant well. Knew they were all struggling in their own ways, but he didn't want any more sympathetic words. He didn't want life to go on. Reality could fuck off.

But when he looked again, it wasn't Lou who had got out the truck. It was Grace, Will Grover by her side. They walked slowly towards him. Will had flowers in one hand, the other against the small of Grace's back, guiding her gently.

"Uncle Steve," she said softly as she came up. "I'm sorry, I didn't know you'd be here. We'll be quick."

His gaze wandered from the big brown eyes she'd inherited from her mother downwards to her round, full belly and the unborn grandchild Danny would never meet.

He shook his head. "No, it's okay. I'll go." He pushed himself to his feet and went to walk away.

Grace grabbed his hand, stopped him. "Stay."

He turned to look at her with relunctance, expecting to meet a reflection of the blame he felt in her gaze. It wasn't there. Her face was sad, yet filled with the same stubborn determination that had helped her father survive the plethora of shitstorms that had plagued him throughout his life. She looked so grown up, a decade more mature than her mere eighteen years.

"I know you're struggling," she said, and he'd swear there was a trace of New Jersey in her accent that he'd never heard before. "We all are. But she's going to need her grandfathers." She shot a quick smile at Will, who nodded quietly. "Don't tell Lou I said it, but Danno would have been the best Poppy…."

Steve smiled a watery smile, because, once the shock and horror of a teen pregnancy had passed, the idea of having a grandkid to fuss over had been all Danny could talk about. "He would have," he choked out past the lump in his throat. It was true.

"… but you'll be the next best thing." Grace finished, nothing but sincere honesty and love in her tone.

Steve gaped at her through his tears, then looked down as she gripped his hand, placing it over her stomach. He could feel the fluttering movement inside and he couldn't help but smile again.

 _That's how you're meant to go on, you doofus._

Steve heard the words as clear as if Danny had been standing right beside him and he shook his head, because the largest part of him still didn't want to go on without Danny at all.

But as Grace wrapped her long arms around him and held him close, he finally saw the way ahead, for all he knew for certain every step of it would hurt. He'd go on for Grace, and for Will and for that little baby who would never lay eyes on the best person Steve had ever known. And, when she was older, he'd tell her stories about the brave, irritating man they all missed so badly because she deserved to know him too.

He'd go on for Danny.

The End


End file.
